


Rush

by FleetofShippyShips



Series: Patience [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, F/F, HP: EWE, Moving In Together, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 11:56:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9819317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleetofShippyShips/pseuds/FleetofShippyShips
Summary: On the first morning of Pansy living with Hermione, she destroys the spare room, and manages to drive Hermione a bit mad. Although, not only in a bad way.(Reading the prequel oneshot is not necessary, this is just a snapshot within the same universe that can be read on its own)





	

“What are you doing?”

Pansy yelped, slammed the spare room door shut, and whirled around. Hermione didn’t fall for her hastily assembled expression of innocence for one second. She folded her arms and looked stern.

She’d learned from Harry and Ron that it was effective even with the fluffy slippers and oversized nightie she was wearing. Pansy bit her lip, her eyes darting to the left, and then back.

“I stored my shrunken things in the spare room last night,” she said, her voice heavy with hesitation.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, waiting.

Wincing, Pansy, straightened her back, trying to look confident. Hermione’s lips twitched with the threat of a smile. It didn’t take a genius to realise what had happened, but she was enjoying this.

“The, uh…the shrinking charms seem to have…failed in the night,” Pansy said, her shoulders shifting ever so slightly in an aborted shrug, as if she’d forgotten for a moment she was trying to appear confident.

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. Raising her eyebrow higher, she continued to stay silent.

“I, well…I may have just destroyed your spare room?”

Releasing an exaggerated sigh, Hermione went to nudge her aside, but Pansy stopped her.

“I’ll fix everything!”

“You’ll fix everything and subtly, ‘accidentally’, change the structure of the furniture to something more to your tastes, you mean,” Hermione said wryly, gripping her shoulders and forcibly moving her.

“I love your cottage, I really do!”

“It’s your cottage now too,” Hermione murmured, as she opened the door to the spare room.

As expected, and as she’d guessed from eyeing up Pansy’s shrunken belongings, the room was crammed full of boxes. She could see splinters of wood peeking out here and there, where the furniture had cracked and broken under the weight and pressure of far too many things for such a small space.

Pansy clearly knew very little about household charms, or such things as manually moving house. That, Hermione had also predicted.

“I meant to unpack, but, well…”

Hermione closed her eyes against the low wave of warmth rushing south. They’d meant to unpack, but got rather distracted. Which reminded her, she really needed to clean the coffee table before putting anything on it.

“You have too many things for this house,” she said, poking at the nearest box. The pile wobbled dangerously, and she shut the door again.

“I can’t throw it away!”

Pansy sounded scandalised, and Hermione shook her head in amusement.

“Perhaps we should have lived at your manor then?” she said lightly, glancing at her over her shoulder.

Pansy’s expression tightened. “No.”

Hermione felt her own expression soften, and reached out to brush the back of her hand against Pansy’s cheek.

“We didn’t have to do this so soon,” she said softly. “We could have waited, and thought about buying something more suitable together.”

Pansy shook her head, catching Hermione’s hand, and using it to tug her closer.

“No chance,” she said firmly. “No matter how I whine and complain, I do love your cottage.”

“Snipe,” Hermione said absently, looking at the closed door again. “Don’t forget the sniping. And it’s yours now too.”

“Our cottage,” Pansy said, a tremor in her voice. “I do, I really do. It’s just…”

“You’re used to a very different life,” Hermione said, when she didn’t finish her sentence. “I know.”

“How will I handle keeping my social standing if I throw out these things?” Pansy said, sounding annoyed. “I know you think what I do is foolish, but I need to blend in with my clientele. I need all these things.”

Hermione sighed, and padded away towards the kitchen. She’d made tea, before being distracted by Pansy’s rather loud discovery. While she understood the concept of a fixer, and the demand, she’d really rather not know the details, even with Pansy swearing she was careful when picking clients, and that she didn’t do anything too illegal.

“I’m not looking down on you,” Pansy continued, following her. “I know you just have lower standards for fashion and such. You know I love how you look, always. It’s just, I need a certain level of presentation that requires—”

“Love, there’s this thing called magic, remember?” Hermione said, as they reached the kitchen, and she spied her mug of tea. “We’ll use some invisible extension charms. We’ll figure it out.”

“Oh.”

Hermione turned, looking over the rim of her mug. “What?”

Pansy fidgeted. “I thought…I thought you might want to limit the amount of magic built into the house.”

Taking a slow sip, so she didn’t say something she might regret, Hermione thought carefully of her next words. As well as they got along, and as much as they loved each other, they certainly had their fair share of fights. She didn’t really feel like one now, not on the first morning of Pansy living with her.

“I’m a muggleborn, Pansy, not a muggle,” she said at last.

Pansy looked both embarrassed and annoyed, which cheered Hermione somewhat. It meant she had the upper hand. That was her preferred position.

“Well, I don’t know how you muggleborns do things,” Pansy said, her face turning a tad pink. Defensive. Lovely. “I was raised with magic integrated in my life, you didn’t know about magic until much later. It makes sense you might avoid it in your home.”

Hermione bit back a laugh, and put her mug down. As she shuffled into Pansy’s space, the other woman made an annoyed sound.

“Don’t do that,” she said.

“What?” Hermione asked innocently, bumping their noses, and sliding her hands under Pansy’s shirt.

Only just gone ten on a Sunday, and Pansy was already well put together. If Hermione cared for such things, she’d be embarrassed by her nightie and fluffy slippers. As it was, she knew from a couple of nights spent at Pansy’s, that the other witch was rather taken by her looking so relaxed.

“I can’t help knowing nothing about how muggleborns live,” Pansy huffed.

“You can,” Hermione said, sliding her hands around and unclipping Pansy’s bra. She brushed her lips along Pansy’s jaw, and cupped her breasts gently, flicking her rapidly firming nipples with her thumbs. “Just ask me things. I won’t get offended.”

Pansy made an annoyed sound that quickly dissolved into a breathy sound of pleasure, as Hermione worried that spot just under her jaw, and thumbed more firmly at her nipples. It was always so easily to get Pansy to calm down this way. And then always so fun to keep working her up again in an entirely more pleasurable manner.

“I guess I’ll learn now,” Pansy sighed, her hands falling to Hermione’s hips as she stepped closer. “But I don’t want you compromising your heritage for me.”

Hermione closed her eyes, pausing all movement for a moment. Pansy likewise stilled. They stood, close, and in silence, for a few moments.

“Neither of us should compromise our heritage,” Hermione said. “Maybe we should have talked about this more before you moved in. We’ll find a middle ground to accommodate us both. Don’t worry. It will work out.”

“I hate that I was raised in ignorance of your kind,” Pansy breathed.

Hermione felt ire rise at the use of ‘your kind’, but swallowed it down, and kissed her instead. Issues of blood purity came up often. It was the issue they argued about most. Not due to any lack of respect, or prejudice. Pansy had moved past that long ago. It was just a matter of the terms Pansy was used to using, and Hermione’s instinctual, aggravated response to them.

By the time Hermione leaned back to speak again, she had Pansy pressed back against the kitchen counter, and her shirt and bra discarded completely.

“You mean hatred, but that’s alright,” she said, hands falling to Pansy’s thighs.

“You’re so damn finicky about word usage,” Pansy huffed, as she loosened the plait Hermione slept in.

It wasn’t often they were together in the morning, and Hermione was looking forward to that becoming their new normality. If they survived the acclimation period.

“You’re so damn obsessive about your appearance,” Hermione countered, as she kissed down Pansy’s neck, avoiding the jewellery she was wearing. On a Sunday. A Sunday they’d planned to stay home.

“You’re so bloody insistent on being in control!”

Hermione chuckled into her neck, sliding her hands under her skirt to tug at her knickers, only to find she wasn’t wearing any. Her retort died on her lips, and she raised her head to take Pansy in a fiery, fierce kiss.

“Why does that turn you on so much?” Pansy asked breathlessly, as Hermione moved away again to press kisses and soft bites to her breasts. “Every time. Every single time. It drives you mad.”

“Isn’t that why you do it?” Hermione asked, as she kissed the mottled green snake coiled around Pansy’s navel. It opened one eye, and flicked out its tongue, but otherwise stayed still. Hermione always thought moving tattoos were strange, but she took a certain satisfaction in making that one move. She’d been afraid to touch it when Pansy had first got it, only two weeks ago, but she’d overcome that fairly fast.

“More about convenience,” Pansy said, her hands tangling in Hermione’s hair as she tugged the tight pencil skirt down, until it pooled around Pansy’s ankles.

“We shag at my workplace too often,” Hermione huffed, sinking to her knees. It was so unprofessional, but she’d never been able to stop herself with Pansy.

“Keeps life interesting.”

Hermione shook her head slightly, nuzzling the sensitive skin just inside Pansy’s hip. A whisper sounded above her, and suddenly, the floor felt softer beneath her knees.

Looking up, she met Pansy’s eyes, and gave her a grateful smile. She always forgot such practical uses for magic, when she was distracted.

“We could take this to the couch, or even the bed.”

“Shut up and don’t hold back,” Hermione said, trailing the tip of one finger over Pansy’s labia, following the cleft down, and then sinking into her in one smooth motion. Pansy sighed, one hand gripping the edge of the bench tightly, the other twisting into Hermione’s now freed hair.

Hermione turned her eyes to the red mark on Pansy’s hip that she’d left the night before. Smirking to herself, she decided to turn it purple. Pansy’s breath caught on a whine, and Hermione slipped a second finger into her. She was so ready, from so little. It never got old, how they ached for each other.

A sharp tugging on her hair made her kiss her way over. Pansy was getting better at expressing her desire this way, and Hermione loved to have her hair tugged.

“Don’t tease me,” Pansy breathed. “I don’t want to draw this out.”

Hermione frowned, slowing the thrust of her fingers, and looking up.

“Seriously?” she asked, bringing her other hand to grip Pansy’s hip. “You have better plans than this?”

Pansy’s face was flushed pink, but she shook her head. “You might be getting surprise guests for lunch.”

Hermione groaned. “No.”

“Sorry.”

“I said I wanted to shag all weekend! You let the boys plan a surprise? You traitor!”

“I can’t say no to Harry!” Pansy whined. “He gets that look! You know the one!”

“Oh, for—” Hermione withdrew her fingers, and then thrust them in again, hard. Pansy gasped, almost doubling over from the surprise. “Don’t talk about them while I have my fingers inside you, and my mouth close to your clit!”

“Sorry!” Pansy moaned, as Hermione curved her fingers.

“I should just stop,” Hermione said, between kisses pressed to Pansy’s hip. The snake tattoo shifted down, coiling around the skin Hermione’s thumb was pressed against on the other hip, the colour brightening. Hermione watched it for a moment, feeling smug.

“Don’t you dare stop!”

“Oh, I don’t know. One betrayal deserves another,” Hermione teased.

Pansy only made a garbled sound in response, as Hermione stopped teasing, and found her clit with the tip of her tongue. Time didn’t really matter. Pansy never lasted long with both mouth and fingers.

The hand in her hair tightened, and tugged, as she flicked and licked and pressed. Moans and gasps sounded above her, and Pansy started rocking her hips. Hermione made a pleased sound, pressing her fingers into her faster. As Pansy’s moans became longer, and the thrust of her hips stronger, the time for precision was gone.

Hermione flattened her tongue, and let Pansy press against it, controlling the force and pace with her hips. She loved when Pansy gripped her hair tight and shagged her face like that. The complete abandonment of composure.

When Pansy shuddered, and moaned, clenching rhythmically around her fingers, Hermione shoved her hips back against the counter, held her there, and teased her clitoris gently until she was sobbing and shaking.

When, finally, Pansy had had enough, she pulled Hermione’s head away by her hair, and slid ungracefully to the floor. As she gasped for air, she looked at Hermione with a pleased, tired expression. Hermione smiled back, clambering onto her lap, and straddling her hips.

She took Pansy’s hand, and slid it between her thighs. She wasn’t wearing any knickers either, and let her head fall back at the feel of Pansy’s fingers pressing and sinking.

“Merlin, you are beautiful like this,” Pansy said, as Hermione let go of Pansy’s hands, gripped her shoulders, and started shamelessly riding her fingers.

Without hesitation, Pansy brought her other hand to tease at her clit, in a way that Hermione knew meant she was rushing her along.

Lunch probably meant brunch then.

Groaning, more from irritation that pleasure, she glared at her.

“You really piss me off sometimes,” she snapped, digging her fingers into Pansy’s shoulders, and trying to hold off the orgasm already building within her. Pansy knew her body too well.

Pansy only smirked. “And I love you all the more for it,” Pansy said. “That’s how we started shagging, remember?”

When Hermione tried to respond, she only fell forward, her arms failing her as Pansy’s thumb pressed against her clitoris so hard, and suddenly so perfectly aligned, that she shuddered out her orgasm then and there, still riding her fingers in short, sharp thrusts of her hips, before slumping against her.

Pansy wiped her fingers on Hermione’s nightie, earning a smart slap on the knuckles.

“Would you rather I used my mouth?” Pansy asked, murmured into her ear, and then kissing her neck.

“I’d rather you’d drawn that out a little longer!” Hermione huffed.

“They’ll be here in fifteen,” Pansy said, nuzzling into her hair. “You might want to get dressed.”

Hermione yelped, clambering off her lap on wobbly legs.

“You utter cow!” she snapped. “That’s not enough time for a shower! I hate cleansing charms!”

As she rushed towards the bedroom, she could hear Pansy laughing behind her, and vowed to get her back.

Although, and she took in the new mixture of hers and Pansy’s things in her bedroom, she felt her ire fade. She should have asked her to move in so much sooner. Turning her eyes to the spot on the wall where she had a magically concealed safe, her mind turned to the ring she’d brought months ago.

Maybe sometime soon, but not quite yet. She had to house train the snake first.

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta'd.
> 
> Trying to write more f/f. First time writing f/f oral...bit scared!


End file.
